Chapter 3

Evelyn

 

“Halloween is tomorrow,” Evelyn murmured. She was looking up and scratching her head. “I can’t believe they still haven’t fixed that lantern.”

Or, she thought, maybe they did fix it, and the bulb blew out again.

She circled the pole that held a lantern that was empty of light, wondering why she hadn’t seen the lantern lit once, despite all the bulb replacements.

You would think someone would have tested it—to see that it worked before going away.

Her slow exhalation of a whistle became a stream of fog in the air. She tutted and shook her head.

“It’s too late for me to do anything about it now. So much for me trying to do something useful here.” It’s as if some strange force in this city is resisting me as much as I’ve been resisting our move here.

With a sigh, Evelyn turned to leave the pier, leaving the waves lightly crashing against the pillars behind her. I do love the water, though.

A few steps later, a crackling buzz filled her head. The sound persisted even after shaking her head again and rubbing her ears.

She turned. Squinting, she scanned the lanterns, stopping at the one that wasn’t lit. Purple-blue sparks traveled along the outside of the glass, flickering and reaching jagged tails of light halfway down the pole.

She frowned.

What’s that supposed to be?

It’s too high to climb, she thought, wishing for a closer look. She reached out and pressed a palm to the pole’s surface. And too smooth; I’d probably slip back down.

Streams of light—wispy currents that flickered and shined blue—trailed farther along the pole and danced across the back of her hand. She pulled back as if she’d been burned, though there had been only a feather-light tickle. The sensation lingered for longer than was comfortable. Frowning, she rubbed away the last bit of prickling with her opposite hand.

That was weird, but if I were to report this, it would only be a waste of time.

Evelyn stepped away, her mind committed to going home.

They’re probably tired of my nagging. Nobody would believe me, anyway.

The electric buzz faded from her hearing as she walked away. She looked back one more time, before she was too far away to see the lantern. The purple-blue light was gone, as if it had given up or gone to sleep for the night, leaving her wondering whether she’d been imagining things—whether the sparks she’d heard, seen, and felt had really been there.

Evelyn crossed her arms and hugged them close to her body as she walked. What just happened? I doubt Joyce would believe me, if I told her. And Carla probably doesn’t even know I’m gone.

She picked up her pace, which helped to shake off the cold but did little to soothe her or explain the peculiarities in her thoughts. When she reached the front steps to Carla’s house, she felt like she was almost floating. Ghosts of the electric buzz had returned, coursing through her fingertips and into her mind.

Evelyn shrieked when Joyce opened the front door. She barely remembered having knocked.

Her sister’s welcoming smile faded. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Evelyn’s chuckle was a bit forced.

She considered telling her sister what had happened, then decided against it. Carla was already worried about her adjustment to the new area. She didn’t want to push things too far.

“No ghosts,” she said, shaking out her hands. She smiled at the confidence that accompanied her words. At least I hope it wasn’t a ghost. I hadn’t considered that.

She took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m tired, though.”

The sisters walked into the living room. Evelyn followed Joyce’s lead and collapsed on a couch. A Halloween movie marathon was playing on a television screen mounted on the wall. Sighing, she let herself sink into the soft, fluffy cushions.

When a loud whistle blew from the next room, Evelyn almost jumped out of her skin, as well as her seat.

“Calm down, Evie,” said Joyce, standing up. “That’s the tea kettle. I’m making hot chocolate.”

She bent her head forward until their noses touched. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Of course I am,” Evelyn answered.

Joyce shot a doubtful look at Evelyn’s hands, to where she’d dug her fingernails into a pillow she’d been squeezing to her chest. Evelyn relaxed her fingers.

Joyce’s forehead creased, but she didn’t question her further. When she left the room, Evelyn wiped the tiny beads of moisture from her forehead. She lowered her hand and flinched. The tickling sensation from the current of blue light was back again, sending soft streams of numbness along the back of her hand.

She rubbed it away before Joyce returned with a pair of steaming mugs. She happily accepted the mug offered to her, keeping it tightly wrapped inside her hands, resisting the urge to let go when the warmth seeping through her skin got too hot.